eventually, what?

Finally found time to write at home
This electronic diary...
Am I losing my sensitivity to the feeling of the awkword stance one must find in order to write, write, write
for hours on end
on the pages of a tiny notebook
with a tiny ink pen?

My finger used to be coarse
a bump from the pressure of instrument
that carried the feelings from heart and mind
to paper

now I stare at the light
in the late of the night

there's a mirror next to me
and blankness is what I see

Maybe I've grown numb
To what I felt when I was young

Is 22 so old?
It's not: so i've been told

But my mind is tired, the things i knew
are starting to grow blurry

and i've been so in love with something
there's no need to hurry

so i type it into a laptop
my fingers know the keys
and when i turn it off
it goes
black
and saved
into the ether

There are no boundries on this way
There is no price for me to pay
There is nothing I cannot say

It flows so quickly right out of me
and you see

i am lost
in the letters and shapes
my mind turns to one thing
the thing i can't shake
the habit i can't break
the thing i can't take
the thing i can't fake
the think i can't make

it stays

there
and i am here
and we stay so far away from what we think we want
and go closer to what we know we don't

alone in my feelings
lost in my mind
on the cycle of love
never ending story
eventually, what?

eventually, what?